


Cold Tile

by The_Marauder_Named_Prongs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: AU, Blowjobs, Bottom Cas, Crossover, First Time, Harry Potter Crossover - Freeform, Hogwarts AU, Hufflepuff Dean, M/M, PWP, Top Dean, gryffindor cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Marauder_Named_Prongs/pseuds/The_Marauder_Named_Prongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has a ritual. After every Quidditch game, win or lose, he showers. He lathers and he scrubs and he waits. Because the second part of Castiel’s ritual is Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Tile

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous prompt on [my tumblr](http://www.siriuslybowlegged.tumblr.com): Hogwarts AU - Cas is a 6th year, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team's Seeker. Dean is a 5th year Hufflepuff, who likes to meet up with his boyfriend in the locker rooms after the game. Awkward teenage fumbling ensues.

Castiel has a ritual. After every Quidditch game, win or lose, he showers. As his teammates disappear from the locker room in celebration of a win or desolation of a loss, Castiel showers. He scrubs away the grime and sweat that signifies the hard work he did on the pitch. He lathers and he scrubs and he waits.

Because the second part of Castiel’s ritual is Dean. Having learned of Castiel’s customary post-game shower, Dean began sneaking into the Gryffindor locker room after the team had cleared out to join Castiel in the showers.

Castiel smiles as he rubs shampoo into the dark hair on his scalp, wondering when Dean will arrive – if Dean will arrive. This is the first game Gryffindor has played against Dean’s house since he and Castiel started dating, fucking around, whatever the hell it is they started doing last Spring. And Hufflepuff lost. Badly.

Dean has always been competitive, always hated the Gryffindor Quidditch team on principle and loyalty to his Hufflepuff brethren. Not once in his five years at Hogwarts has Hufflepuff been able to wrest the Quidditch Cup from the slimy Slytherins or their Gryffindor nemeses. And Dean hates that. Absolutely hates it.

Today’s match has not changed the tides. Gryffindor crushed Hufflepuff in a blowout that only lasted thirty-five minutes before Castiel caught the Snitch for an extra hundred and fifty points, ending the match at 320 to 30 – one of the worst losses of Hufflepuff’s recent history.

But Dean does show up in the locker room, later than usual but with his customary smirk in place as he slips into the shower room. The showers are largely open, only short walls dividing the separate showerheads. Castiel is in one of the stalls farthest from the entrance. Dean can see the steam rising in great plumes as he rests against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

He quickly and quietly divests himself of his clothing, starting with his shoes and working his way up to his shirt and striped yellow tie. The only item he holds onto is his Quidditch team flag.

He pads over to Castiel’s stall, leaning against the low dividing wall. Castiel is faced away from Dean, his head submerged under the stream of water as he scratches his fingers through his hair, rinsing the suds away. The spray bounces off of his back, catching and beading on dean’s naked torso. Dean indulges in watching him for several seconds before clearing his throat to announce his presence.

Castiel turns with a smile as he slicks the strands out of his face, knowing exactly who is behind him. His gaze zeros in on Dean’s nudity – unexpected, but definitely welcome – then onto the flag he is rotating lazily between his thumb and forefinger. It’s a Gryffindor flag.

Castiel raises his eyes to meet Dean’s. Dean steps forward, grasping Castiel’s wet forearm and pulling him out of the spray and into a deep kiss. Cas smiles against Dean’s lips as he pulls back sharply, forcing Dean into the stream of water. Dean releases Castiel’s arm to wrap his fingers around the back of Cas’ neck, pulling his head to a better angle as he licks his way past Cas’ lips. Cas lets him, skimming his own fingers down Dean’s arms, plucking the small flag right out of Dean’s hand. Dean steps back, surprised as Castiel smooths the flag down Dean’s chest, twirling it and letting it fall into the water pooling around their toes just before it reaches Dean’s half-hard cock.

 “You’ve got the wrong team’s flag,” he says huskily, returning his gaze to Dean’s face.

Dean chuckles. “I’ve got exactly the flag I mean to have,” he says, that coy smirk dancing across his lips once more.

Castiel wonders briefly if Dean sat with the Hufflepuffs, shamelessly waving that Gryffindor flag as he watched Castiel aid his house in crushing Dean’s. The thought forces a warm surge of affection through Castiel’s body that brings his hand right to Dean’s cock. He strokes him gently as he rests his temple against Dean’s shoulder, grinning at the surprised shudder that runs through Dean at his touch.

“You’ll get yourself into trouble, Dean,” Castiel whispers gruffly into Dean’s ear. “Rooting for the opposition so blatantly.” Dean’s only response is a broken whimper as Castiel pushes his back against the cold tile. “Do they know you’re cheering for me?” Castiel asks as he sucks kisses and bruises into the soft, damp skin of Dean’s neck. “Do they know you’re cheering for the boy you’re fucking?”

Dean moans loudly at Castiel’s words, lips, hands, his head falling back to give Castiel greater access to the flesh of his neck. “God, yes,” he says, and Castiel doesn’t know if it’s in response to his inquiries or his thumb coming up over the head of his cock on a particularly strong upswing of his hand to rub at the slit.

Dean’s eyes pop open as he feels a familiar tightening in his abdomen. Too soon, he thinks as he threads his fingers into Castiel’s hair, pulling Cas’ lips back to his, successfully shutting his sinful mouth and breaking his concentration on Dean’s dick. The tension eases as he knocks Cas’ hand away from his cock, using Castiel’s temporary surprise to reverse their positions. He delves his tongue deep into Cas’ mouth as he pushes him against the wall, curling his free hand around Cas’ cock. Castiel groans a deep, guttural sound into Dean’s open mouth before Dean drops to his knees.

The tile is uncomfortable, cold and wet, and the stream of water from the showerhead is now catching him on the head, dripping into his eyes, as he holds Castiel’s wet cock steady in his hand. He lowers his mouth onto it, suckling lightly at the head. Castiel’s loud groan shoots a hot spike of arousal through Dean’s abdomen as his lips drag down over the length of Cas’ cock. He is pleasantly surprised by the ease and fluidity the water provides him as it drips down his face and over Cas’ cock, slicking it for Dean’s lips. The head bumps against the back of Dean’s throat, and Dean has to breathe deeply to stop his gag reflex from forcing him back and off of Cas.

Instead, Dean responds to the noises Cas makes above him, loving the deep moans he receives when he swirls his tongue around the head and the fingers in his hair when he hollows his cheeks and sucks hard. He brings a hand between Cas’ legs, running his fingers down the cleft to play at his hole the way he knows Cas goes mad for. He eases one wet finger inside of Castiel as he pulls back slightly to tongue at the slit of his cock. Castiel’s legs tremble with the force of holding himself up as he comes into Dean’s mouth unexpectedly. His fingers tighten in Dean’s hair, and his voice cracks on Dean’s name, his breathing labored as he pumps shallowly into Dean’s mouth as he comes down from his orgasm.

Dean does his best to swallow, knowing how much Castiel enjoys that (and enjoying it quite a bit himself, if he’s being honest), but the suddenness of it left him unprepared, and come drips down his chin and onto the tiles at his knees as Cas pulls out of his mouth.

Cas sinks to the cold floor bonelessly, having only enough energy to pull Dean’s arm, urging Dean over to him. Dean obeys, sliding onto his backside next to Castiel, knees bent and resting his head on Cas’ shoulder. Cas places a hand in the hairs at the base of Dean’s neck, his cheek resting against his damp scalp as he whispers tired praise into Dean’s hair.

They remain that way for several minutes, happily enjoying the mist of the shower’s charmed-warm spray that coats their heated skin. Dean wonders if Castiel has fallen asleep, unconcerned with Dean’s unrelenting erection. He finds, frighteningly, that he wouldn’t mind it if Cas had. He wouldn’t mind laying here with Cas until he felt ready to move again. He wouldn’t even mind returning to the castle and detouring into an empty toilet to take care of it himself.

But he doesn’t have to worry about the implications of any of that for very long. Castiel groggily sits up not long after, smiling down at Dean as he reaches up to turn off the shower tap. He gives Dean’s cock a few gentle tugs before lying back across the floor tiles, no longer at risk of getting water in his eyes.

He frames Dean’s waist with his ankles, opening himself up to Dean. “Would you like to fuck me, Dean?” he asks, smiling innocently up at Dean from between his knees.

Dean’s heart races, and his dick stands stiffer because – _hell yes_. Dean fumbles onto his knees, looking around helplessly for some kind of lubrication. Even if he’d thought to bring anything, it’d be across the room with his clothing, and he doesn’t ever want to move away from Cas’ body all laid out for him like it is right now.

Castiel, understanding Dean’s dilemma, just grins up at him. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, and Dean’s about ninety-five percent sure that’s not how sex works, but he’s never done it and he knows Cas has, so maybe he should trust him. But he’ll hurt him without lube, he knows that much, and that’s the absolute last thing he wants to do right now.

Castiel grips Dean’s palms, drawing his attention back to him. “Dean,” he says gently, still smiling that easy grin. “Trust me.”

Dean can only nod as Cas draws one of Dean’s hands between his legs. Dean’s head goes fuzzy as he brings a finger to his hole, finding it slicked. Dean didn’t even know that was possible. It figures Cas would know a lubrication spell safe enough to use in his own ass. What’s really impressive, underneath all the dead-fucking-sexy that’s currently short-circuiting Dean’s brain, is the fact that Cas did it wandlessly. And silently. Dean didn’t even know sixth years were capable of that.

He tries to ground himself, bring himself back to the present – to Cas – as he presses in with a second finger. Cas wriggles and moans beneath him, encouraging Dean to add a third as he begins pushing down onto Dean’s fingers.

“Please,” he moans as Dean twists inside of him. “ _Dean_.”

Dean nods, knowing what Cas wants and wanting to give it to him, forcing himself to breathe and be calm as he withdraws his fingers. He steadies himself over Cas with his knees between Cas’ thighs and one hand outstretched over Cas’ shoulder, holding Dean up. Castiel turns his head, kissing Dean’s wrist reassuringly as he skims his hands up and down Dean’s back, knowing Dean has wanted this for a long time – knowing Dean is worried he’s going to fuck it up.

Dean uses his free hand to line himself up as Cas wraps his ankles around the back of his knees, urging Dean forward. Dean acquiesces, pushing himself into Castiel slowly, his breath coming short as the tight heat surrounds the head of his cock – tighter and hotter than Dean could have ever imagined. It feels so good – too good – and Dean knows he needs to pause if there’s any hope of him lasting more than a few uncoordinated thrusts.

“So good, Dean,” Castiel soothes, encourages. “Feels so good.”

Dean looks up at him, sees his dilated pupils, his flushed skin, the adoration in his eyes. He smiles, leaning down to kiss Cas gently as he quickly bottoms out. Castiel moans into his mouth as Dean pulls back and slides in once more. He clenches down on Dean hard, making him dizzy with pleasure.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dean pants as he finds a shallow rhythm, unwilling to pull himself too far away from the heat that is Cas’ body. He drops to his elbows, no longer capable of holding his weight. Dean glances down at where their bodies meet, watching Cas’ dick twitch in interest, though he can’t quite sustain an erection so soon after coming. Knowing that Cas is enjoying this is enough to give Dean the confidence he needs to move faster, to drive into him harder.

Castiel moans encouragement into the skin of Dean’s chest, crying out when Dean accidentally and unexpectedly finds his prostate. The sound makes Dean’s dick throb, and he focuses all of his remaining stamina on getting Cas to make that sound again.

Cas does. Repeatedly.

His cock flushes and fills once more at Dean’s relentless pace.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean groans as he feels the pressure building low in his stomach. His thrusts become erratic, more desperate. “Gonna come.”

Cas nods against his chest, digging his nails into Dean’s hips. He uses his ankles to lever himself down onto Dean’s cock, matching him thrust for sporadic thrust, his own cock trapped and aching between their bodies.

Dean thrusts once, twice more, bumping Castiel’s prostate hard, sending him spiraling over the edge just seconds before Dean comes hot and deep inside of him with a low groan.

Cas releases Dean’s hips, his arms dropping bonelessly to the tile below him as Dean slumps onto his chest. Cas presses light kisses into Dean’s hair as they ride out the afterglow. When their breathing returns to relative normalcy, Castiel eases Dean out of him and onto his side. Dean allows himself to be maneuvered down onto the cold floor, feeling his face crack into a blissed-out smile as he watches Castiel reach for the shower tap, turning the hot spray back on.

With the water running down his chest and back, Cas kneels and turns to Dean, offering him a hand up.

Dean accepts it, doing his best not to stumble on his weak and wobbling legs. They remain silent as Castiel conjures a washcloth, slowly and thoroughly wiping Dean down with warm water and pear-scented soap. He rests Dean against the stall divider as he cleans himself as well. Dean remains there even after Castiel has shut off the water, not moving until Castiel steps out of the stall and returns with a towel.

“Thanks,” Dean says hoarsely as he takes the towel from Cas’ outstretched hand.

Cas smiles at him mischievously, ruffling the towel through his damp hair before bending to pick up the Gryffindor flag that had been kicked into the corner of the stall at some point. “Anytime, Dean,” he says, placing the towel around his shoulders and turning away from the stall, the red and gold flag twirling gracefully through his fingers as he bends to gather his clothing.

Dean groans at the sight of Cas’ ass, knowing damn well he’ll be taking Cas up on his offer. Sooner rather than later.


End file.
